The night of the ball finally arrived. By one of those occult processes so difficult for the masculine intelligence to comprehend, Theodora and Anne and Mrs. March found out that Sir John Blood was going to the ball too. Many speculations as to whether he would ask to be introduced or not went through the head of this young daughter of the great republic, but she said never a word. Anne and her mother though prattled incessantly about Sir John and the ball, to all of which Theodora listened with the air of lofty indifference which an American girl assumes where men are concerned, and apparently cared no more about Sir John Blood than she did about the future King of Bulgaria. The March carriage containing Mrs. Wodehouse drove up to Prince's Gate about ten o'clock on a bright May evening. At the same instant Sir John Blood's brougham was whirled to his door. Mrs. March stood in the doorway to enjoy the sight of her nestlings getting into the carriage. Mrs. Wodehouse did not descend. Anne came first, tripping down the carpeted steps, looking uncommonly pretty in a blue gown. "How charming you are, dear!" cried Mrs. Wodehouse. "Just wait till you see Theo," answered Anne a little discontentedly. It is hard to be always and invariably outshone even when one has an angel named McBean to soothe one's self-love. At that moment Sir John Blood appeared at his own door. He might well have got into his brougham and gone, but he delayed a moment or two--and in that moment Theodora sailed down the steps. A cloud of silver _crêpe_ enveloped her and floated far behind her. Her slender form was molded into a bodice so simple and yet so exquisite that it was a poem in satin. Around the white pillar of her matchless throat she wore a string of pearls, and pearls hung upon the front of her corsage and skirt until both seemed sowed with gems. Mrs. Wodehouse threw up her hands in silent ecstasy. The coachman turned and gaped with delight, and so did the footman who shut the carriage door after her. Not only did Sir John Blood as well as his servants gaze in admiration, but a group of ragged urchins began to "hooray," as the carriage rolled off. Theodora leaned back in her corner of the carriage, enjoying her little triumph as only a young and beautiful woman can. Nor did the triumph end there. When they ascended the grand staircase and entered the ball-room, a kind of admiring murmur followed Theodora. The whole evening was a repetition of these trivial but delicious successes that are dear to every woman's heart. The very first person on whom Theodora's eyes rested was Sir John Blood, and half an hour had scarcely passed before he came up and asked for an introduction. Theodora was surprised to see Mrs. Wodehouse receive Sir John with something like haughtiness. She barely consented to introduce him, and seized the first opportunity to whisper in Theodora's ear agonizingly--"He's a widower--don't for Heaven's sake--dear girl--"